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AFTERGLOW 



AFTERGLOW 

LATER POEMS 



BY 



JULIA C. R. DORR 




NEW YORK 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

1900 



G6848 



I OCT 27 1900 

i. Copyright nntry 



No 



0^,1)^5.'^%. 



SECOND COPY. 
GROW DIVISION, 

s:ov 31- i.>ou 



Copyright, igoo, by 
Charles Scribner's Sons 



The DeVinne Press 



TO S. M. D. 

\ 

If love could wing its flight 
To yon far realm of light, 
Fain would I bring to you, 
O tender heart and true, 
These spoils of later years. 
Half sunshine and half tears ! 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Inconsistency 3 

Whom the Gods Love 5 

Hush ! 7 

Thy Songs and Mine 8 

A Poet's Wife 9 

" Do They Measure Time where Thou Art? " 10 

The Wise Men 11 

A Knight-Errant 12 

The Countersign 13 

The Dower 14 

Supplication . 15 

The Comrades 18 

An Afterthought 22 

The Sanctuary Lamp 25 

After the Magnificat 31 

Three Crosses 34 

On the Height 37 



X CONTENTS 

PAGE 

When Spenser Died 39 

Looking toward Spain 42 

Installation Hymn 44 

The Sacramental Hymn 46 

Lessons Twain 48 

Outlived 49 

Jacques and Suzette 51 

At Bar Harbor 55 

Hubert de Burgh 56 

Christiana 59 

The Chamber 61 

"In Manus TuAS, Domine! " .... 64 

The City Called Chu 66 

The Death-Song of the Hemlock . . 68 

For a Christening 72 

The Dream-Bearer . . . . . . 75 

The Secret Chamber tj 

" Out of the Silence, Speak ! " . . . 79 

After Many Days 82 



AFTERGLOW 



LATER POEMS 



INCONSISTENCY 



When dawns some day fairer than other days, 
And all the mountain passes are aglow 
With its supernal splendor, and the low, 
Dim valleys sleeping in the woodland ways 
Waken to glorious life at mom's first rays, — 

When happy birds sing, and all winds that blow, 
Laden with seeds of blessing come and go, 
And earth no secret of her woe betrays, — 
Then, O beloved, when my heart is light 
And all is well with me, and pain and care 
Have vanished as a dream of last year's rose 
Fades with the passing of a summer night. 
My soul in ecstasy of love and prayer 

Cries : " God, I thank thee that he knows, he 
knows! " 

3 



INCONSISTENCY 



II 



But on some other day, when skies unroll 

Their storm-cloud banners only, and the beat 
Of the wild tempest is like hurrying feet 

That stay not, halt not, till they reach the goal ; 

When doubt and dread assail my fainting soul, 
And, when I fain God's mercy would entreat. 
Even the prayers my trembling lips repeat 

Seem like the clamor of harsh bells that toll — 

Then, thinking of thee in some far, dim realm, — 
Dim to our senses, glorious to thine, — 

Where never once a cruel wind doth blow, 

Nor storm, nor stress, come near thee to o'erwhelm, 
I lift mine eyes unto the hills divine, 

And cry : " Thank God, thank God, he does not 
know ! " 



WHOM THE GODS LOVE 



" Whom the Gods love die young "? Nay, rather say 
With bated breath, " Whom the Gods love die 

old!" 
Shall the morn pale ere it hath coined its gold? 
The sun go down while yet it is full day? 
The statue sleep unmoulded in the clay? 

The parchment crumble ere it is unrolled? 
The story end with half the tale untold? 
The song drop mute and breathless by the way?* 
Oh, weep for Adonais when he dies 

With all youth's lofty promise unfulfilled, 
Its splendor lost in sudden drear eclipse! 
With love unlived and dreams half dreamed he hes, 
All the red wine from life's gold chalice spilled 
Ere its bright brim hath touched his eager lips ! 
S 



WHOM THE GODS LOVE 



II 

Whom the Gods love die old! O life, dear life, 
Let the old sing thy praises, for they know 
How year by year the summers come and go. 

Each with its own abounding sweetness rife! 

They know, though frosts be cruel as the knife. 

Yet with each June the perfect rose shall blow, 
And daisies blossom and the green grass grow, 

Triumphant still, unvexed by storm or strife. 

They know that night more splendid is than day ; 
That sunset skies flame in the gathering dark, 
And the deep waters change to molten gold ; 

They know that Autumn richer is than May ; 
They hear the night-birds singing like the lark— 
Ah, life, sweet life, whom the Gods love die old! 



HUSH! 

Oh, hush thee, Earth! Fold thou thy weary palms! 
The sunset glory fadeth in the west ; 
The purple splendor leaves the mountain's crest ; 
Gray twilight comes as one who beareth alms, 
Darkness and silence and delicious calms. 

Take thou the gift, O Earth! on Night's soft breast 
Lay thy tired head and sink to dreamless rest, 
Lulled by the music of her evening psalms. 

Cool darkness, silence, and the holy stars. 
Long shadows when the pale moon soars on 
high, 
One far, lone night-bird singing from the hill, 
And utter rest from Day's discordant jars ; 
O soul of mine! when the long night draws 
nigh 
Will such deep peace thine inmost being fill? 



THY SONGS AND MINE 

Sing thou my songs for me when I am dead! 
Soul of my soul, some day thou wilt awake 
To see the morning on the hilltops break, 

And the far summits flame with rosy red — 

But I shall wake not, though above my head 

Armies should thunder ; nor for Love's sweet sake, 
Though he the tenderest pilgrimage should make 

Where I am lying in my grassy bed. 

I shall be silent, with my song half sung ; 
I shall be dumb, with half the story told ; 
I shall be mute, leaving the half unsaid. 

Take thou the harp ere yet it be unstrung — 
Wake thou the lyre ere yet its chords be cold — 
Sing thou my songs, and thine, when I am dead ! 



A POET'S WIFE 

TO L. A. 

When first I saw thy face, I found thee fair, 
Dainty and fragrant as a perfect rose 
That in some sweet, secluded garden grows. 
Thou didst remind me of a jewel rare 
Most fitly set ; a pearl a king might wear 

When, in high banquet-halls at daylight's close, 
On blazoned walls a softened splendor glows, 
And pulsing music thrills the enchanted air. 
Again we met,- one sullen wintry day ; 

We talked of life and love, of sorrow's night, 

Of death's dark why and wherefore, till thine eyes 
Grew deep with thought and prayer. Then said I, 
"Nay! 
Why should thy rare bard mourn the Goddess' 
flight? 
This muse shall lure him to song's upper skies!" 



"DO THEY MEASURE TIME WHERE 
THOU ART ? " 

Do they measure time where thou art? Dost thou 
know 

How the immutable, relentless years, 

Delaying not for human hopes or fears, 
In long processionals still come and go? 
When, as of old, thy summer roses blow. 

Art thou aware, thou who art done with tears? 

O blessed habitant of other spheres, 
Takest thou heed of Earth's hoar-frost and show? 
We count the years, and tell them, one by one. 
Since thy feet trod the path where silence is ; 

How oft the harvest moon has waned! we say. 
Dost thou remember when thy rest was won? 
Or art thou like to the high Gods in this. 

That unto thee a year is but a day? 



THE WISE MEN 

Ye happy stars, that o'er the desert wold 
Saw Jasper, Melchior, and Balthazar 

Bearing rich gifts and offerings from afar 
(Sweet Orient spices, gems, and burning gold) 
To Bethlehem's manger, where the Child foretold 

By seer and prophet slept beneath his star, — 

Fill with glad song the blue depths where ye are, 
Singing as sang the morning stars of old! 
Lo! once again the wise men from the East, 

Crossing the desert and the rolling main 

And the high mountains, bid their eyes behold 
The glory of the Lord ! To his great feast 

Thronging they press, the eager, mystic train. 
Giving and taking wine and oil untold! 



A KNIGHT-ERRANT 

Let me not weep ! Thou wert as true a knight 
As ever yet laid his proud lance in rest 
For tilt or tournament, or wore his crest 

Of blazoned splendor in the thickest fight! 

When trumpets blared, in all thine armor dight, 
Forth didst thou fare to do thy lord's behest, 
Nor shrank from fiercest field, nor hardest quest, 

Keeping his banner ever in thy sight. 

If now thy liege hath further need of thee 
In the high courts of some wide realm afar, 
Where in fair state his best and noblest are, 

Shall I bewail thee with my woman's tears? 
Nay! Go thou on at his most wise decree, 

And dwell triumphant in those higher spheres! 



THE COUNTERSIGN 

How shall I know thee when we two shall meet 
In the vast spaces where the dead abide? 
Never on earth shall we stand side by side. 

I have not heard thy voice, nor the quick beat 

Of thy glad footsteps in the hurrying street ; 
Nor have I seen thy face ; nor, in the wide, 
Deep silences where prayer is justified. 

Have we two knelt God's dear love to entreat. 

Then by what strange, mysterious countersign, 

What mystic shibboleth, will thy strong soul 

Recognize mine in that transcendent hour 

When, face to face on some fair mount divine. 
We see far off the mighty planets roll, 

Love and immortal life our deathless dower? 



13 



THE DOWER 

The whole wide earth, O poet, is thy dower ! 
Claim thou its affluence as by right divine. 
For thee suns rise and set, and clear stars shine, 
Old ocean rolls, and far heights heavenward tower. 
The thrush and nightingale, and every flower 
Of every clime and every age, are thine ; 
All Gods shall fill thy golden cup with wine, 
All prophets pledge thee in the uplifted hour! 
Thine are the mysteries of life and death : 
All loves, all joys, all passion, and all pain. 
Temptations shared not, sins thou hast not 
known. 
False hopes, frail raptures trembling at a breath. 
The hero's ecstasy, the martyr's gain. 

The high prayer soaring to the Great White 
Throne! 



H 



SUPPLICATION 

Forsake me not, O Light of many days! 

Low sinks the westering sun ; 

An amethystine haze 
Flushes with purple all the upland ways ; 
The shadows lengthen in the twilight glow, 
And well I know 

That day is almost done! 

Thou whom I worshipped when my life was new, 
Say not that we must part ! 
I have been leal and true, 
Loving thee better as the swift years flew, 
With such pure homage that nor time nor change 
Could e'er estrange 
From thee my constant heart. 
15 



I6 SUPPLICA TIOiV 

When I was but a child I heard thy voice, 

And followed thee afar 

In humble, happy choice, 
Content in this far following to rejoice ; 
Didst thou but whisper, heaven and earth grew bright 
With holy light, 

Clearer than sun or star, 

I dared not kiss thy garment's hem, nor lay 

One pale flower at thy feet : 

It was enough to stray 
In a child's dream of thee by night, by day, 
In tremulous ecstasy to feel thee near, 
And half in fear. 

Half joy, thy coming greet. 

For thou wert one with nature. All things fair 

Spoke to my soul of thee : 

The azure depths of air, 
Sunrise, and starbeam, and the moonlight rare, 
Splendor of summer, winter's frost and snow, 
Autumn's rich glow, 

Bird, river, flower, and tree. 



SUPPLICATION 17 

Thou wert in love's first whisper, and the slow 

Thrill of its dying kiss ; 

In the strong ebb and flow 
Of the resistless tides of joy and woe ; 
In life's supremest hour thou hadst a share, 
Its stress of prayer, 

Its rapturous trance of bhss! 

Leave me not now when the long shadows fall 

Athwart the sunset bars ; 

Hold thou my soul in thrall 
Till it shall answer to a mightier call ; 
Remain thou with me till the holy night 
Puts out the light— 

And kindles all the stars! 



THE COMRADES 

THE SOUL TO THE BODY 

Comrade, art thou weary? 

Hath the way been long? 
Dost thou faint and falter — 

Thou, who wert so strong? 

Ah, I well remember 

How, when life was young. 
Forth we fared together, 

Glad of heart and tongue. 

Then no height appalled thee ; 

Thou didst mount and sing 
With the joyous ardor 

Of a bird on wing! 
iS 



THE COMRADES 19 

Once thou wert the stronger- 
Led me by thy will ; 

I obeyed thy mandates, 
Gloried in thy skill ; 

Owed thee much, and loved thee, 

Half the joy of Hving 
(Comrade, dost thou hear me?) 

Hath been of thy giving. 

Think what thou has brought me! 

All that eye hath seen — 
Glow of dawn and sunset ; 

Starlight's silver sheen ; 

All the pomp and splendor 

Of the summer day ; 
Gleam of sparkling waters 

Leaping in their play ; 

Night and storm and darkness ; 

Mountains high and hoar ; 
Ocean billows sweeping 

On from shore to shore! 



THE COMRADES 

Think of what I owe thee! 

Fragrance of the rose, 
Breath of odorous Hly 

And each flower that blows ; 

Song of thrush and veery 
Deep in woodland bowers; 

Chime of sweet bells pealing 
From cathedral towers ; 

Love's most dear caresses, 
Touch of lip and cheek, 

Throb of heart revealing 
What no tongue can speak! 

Lifelong friend and comrade. 
Twin-born brother, thou, 

Think how thou hast served me- 
Let me serve thee now! 

Let my strength uphold thee 
As thine own strength fails, 

As the way grows steeper 
And the night prevails. 



THE COMRADES 

Cheer thee, cheer thee, comrade! 

Drink thou of my wine ; 
Lo! the cup I brmg thee * 

Holds a draught divine! 



AN AFTERTHOUGHT 



THE BODY TO THE SOUL 



Together still, old comrade — thou and I! 

From out the dark, drear places, 

The awful, rayless spaces. 
Where only storms and dreadful shapes swept by. 

We have come forth again 

Into the world of men. 
Have seen the darkness vanish, and the day 
Drive night away! 

Art thou not glad? Is it not good to be 

Alive on this green earth. 

This realm of home and hearth? 
Is it not good for thee as well as me? 

Oh, earth is warm and dear ; 

Its touch is close and near ; 
And the unknown is cold and dim, and far 
As any star! 



AN AFTERTHOUGHT 2; 

Speak thou, O soul! Art thou not glad to-day 

That we are still together 

In the clear summer weather? 
Can see the shadows on the mountains play, 

The glory of the trees, 

The splendor of the seas. 
The pomp of dawn and sunset, and the fair 
Blue fields of air? 

Hark, how the birds are singing! and I hear 

From shrub and flower and tree 

The humming of the bee, 
Nature's melodious chanting soft and clear, 

The breath of winds that pass 

Over the bending grass, 
Childhood's blithe laughter, and the sweet 
Fall of its feet! 

Thank God! thank God! Comrade, rejoice with me 

In that I still am here 

Where life and love are dear. 
And as of old clasp loyal hands with thee! 



24 AN AFTERTHOUGHT 

And yet — and yet — 
I cannot quite forget 
That thou didst fail me in mine hour of need, 
Nor gave me heed! 

Ah, whither didst thou flee what time I lay 

In the unfathomed dark ? 

Soul, didst thou find an ark 
Secure and safe until the dawn of day, 

Forgetting thou hadst sworn 

An oath not yet outworn. 
To stay me with thy strength, to bring me wine 
From hills divine? 

But — I forgive thee! It may be that thou, 

Even as I, wert bound 

Beyond all ken, or sound, 
Or faintest memory of earthly vow. 

So, hand in hand, old friend, 

Until the path shall end. 
We will fare on together, thou and I, 
.Counting the stars on high! 



THE SANCTUARY LAMP 

Thus spake the lady abbess, as the nuns 

Passed, two by two, through the wide cloister gate 

Whereon were carven figures of dead saints 

And kneeling women bearing in their hands 

Ascension lihes : " Go ye one and all 

To the confessional, and shrive yourselves ; 

Then kneel at the high altar, and pray ye 

For one who heth very near to death." 

Then the pale nuns, with sudden, swift accord, 

Made each the mystic token of the cross, 

And passed on silently, save one — the last. 

Who walked alone, the eldest of the house. 

" Is it the novice? " said she, speaking low. 

" Let others pray! I will keep watch with thee." 

25 



26 THE SANCTUARY LAMP 

" Nay, it is not the novice. She does well," 

The abbess made hushed answer ; " come with me." 

Down the long corridor she swept in haste. 

Her robe a trailing shadow, her dark veil 

Floating behind her, and her snowy band 

A white flame on her forehead, till she paused 

At a low door set in the eastern wall ; 

Then turned and whispered : " She hath come at last, 

Our great Queen Berengaria, to die 

In the fair abbey she hath builded well. 

Enter, but speak not, for mayhap she sleeps." 

The white, hushed room was like a temple dim 
With floating incense ; for the lamp burnt low, 
And through the latticed casement softly stole 
The night wind heavy with the fragrant breath 
Of rose and violet. On a low couch 
Lay the fair woman Coeur de Lion loved. 
And all the golden splendor of her hair, 
Unbound, unbraided, rippled to the floor 
Like waves of sunshine in a shady glen ; 
And all her eyes' blue splendor lit the place, 



THE SANCTUARY LAMP 2J 

Mocking the flame that burnt upcn her cheek. 
"Ah! never death wore such fair guise before, 
If this be death," Assunta said, and wept ; 
Yet in her heart beheved not it was death, 
So hke it seemed to flush of youth and health. 
But the wise abbess knew, for she had gone 
With many a one to the extremest verge 
Of the dark vale where soul and body part. 
Swiftly she crossed the chamber, and knelt dov/n 
To touch the hot lips of the queen with wine ; 
Then drew Assunta nearer, whispering: " Look! 
Her poor wits wander! She would braid her hair 
As for a festival." For in and out 
Through the long, golden meshes of her hair 
Her trembling fingers strayed continuously. 
Weaving the shining strands. 

" Nay, my sweet Queen," 
The abbess said, stilling the restless hands, 
" I am your tire-woman! Be it mine 
To bind these heavy tresses. Rest, dear heart." 
But Berengaria smiled. " My wits stray not, 
Dear Mother Abbess. Gather you my hair 



28 THE SANCTUARY LAMP 

In one thick coil — thus — and lay the rope 
Here in my hand. Now from my casket there 
Reach me the jewelled blade King Richard were 
What time he fought with Saladin and drove 
Him out from Ascalon. He gave it me, 
With jest and laughter, one short hour before 
Proud Fanuelle fell — slain by the Saracens." 
Then, hfting her right arm, with one swift stroke 
She severed the bright tresses, and fell back 
Unnerved, and pallid as a wan, white ghost 
That walks at midnight. 

When her heart once more 
Sent the red current tinghng through her veins, 
Again she spake : " Dear Abbess, give me leave 
For this one night to rule thy flock and thee! 
Go thou, Assunta, and with no delay 
Bring thou twelve sisters hither — they who are 
Of all your house most Hght and deft of touch. 
Swiftest to learn and do." 

And soon the nuns 
Entered the chamber as it were a shrine, 



THE SANCTUARY LAMP 2( 

Crossing themselves and kneeling, one by one^ 
" Do me this grace, my sisters," said the queen. 
" For this one night your wonted rest forego, 
And do my bidding. Take this coil of hair — 
O golden waves Richard so oft hath kissed! — 
And braid twelve slender chains as soft as silk ; 
Then braid the twelve together." 

All night long 
The pale nuns bent them to their lovely task, 
Nor spake one to another. Silently 
The gold chains lengthened, while the lamps burnt 

clear. 
Making still radiance in the quiet foom ; 
And Berengaria lay with folded palms. 
Patiently waiting. Once a night-bird sang 
Outside the casement, and she, hearkening, smiled. 
Just as the dawn was breaking, in her hands 
They laid a shining rope as soft as silk, 
But strong as hempen cable. 

" List ye all," 
Then said the queen, as round her slender wrist 
She wound its golden length caressingly, 



so THE SANCTUARY LAMP 

Laid it against her cheek, and to her breast 
Pressed it with two white hands and held it close. 
'* My liege lord sleeps in Fontevraud, and there 
Above his tomb hang ye a jewelled lamp 
Swinging from this fair chain — sole part of me 
That age can wither not, nor time deface! 
Let the lamp burn with ever-during flame. 
But lay my body in the abbey here ; 
It shall not He where he who loved it so — " 

She ceased, and reverently the kneeling nuns 
Waited the moment she should further speak ; 
And as they listened, lo! the nightingale 
Wailed faintly in the distance, and a lark 
Filled the new day with ecstasy of song. 



AFTER THE MAGNIFICAT 

I, Mary, unto whom the angel bore, 

That wondrous, moonHt night. 
On wings of hght. 

Message no mortal ever heard before, 
Waking me from the sleep 
Of maiden dreams, to weep 

And smile in startled wonder — could I know 
It meant such woe? 

" Blessed " the angel called me. I am blest ! 
Let no man dare to say 
I am not, who can lay 
My Holy Child's fair head upon my breast. 
He is mine own, mine own! 
Let my lips make no moan 
While it is theirs his brow, his lips, to kiss, 
Like this— like this! 
31 



32 AFTER THE MAGNIFICAT 

And yet — and yet — at first I did not know! 

I was as others are — 

A child with hfe afar, 
A maiden dreaming in the dawn's young glow ; 

And when the angel came, 

Calling me by my name, 
And told me what should be, I hfted up 
My hands and took the cup! 

Then came the slow, strange hours when in me grew 

Sense of diviner things. 

My soul found wings. 
And from its nest on mighty pinions flew ; 

Sang the exulting song 

That ages shall prolong — 
Sang the Magnificat, and did not shrink 
From the flood's brink! 

But now, O mothers, I have grown too wise! 

What say the prophets old 

In scriptures manifold? 
A dove that hath no nest beneath the skies ; 



AFTER THE MAGNIFICAT 

A lamb to slaughter led ; 
A king with uncrowned head ; 
A man acquaint with grief— who knows 
AH human woes! 

Despised— rejected— and that sharper word, 

Forsaken! Let me be, 

Ye who would comfort me! 
That word strikes deeper than a two-edged sword. 

My little one, my child, 

Forgive me that I smiled 
When the proud Magi brought their gifts to thee 
On bended knee! 

Dost thou know what is coming? In thine eyes, 
That seem to look afar, 
Where God's own secrets are, 

There grows a kindling wonder and surprise. 
Thou art mine Holy One, 
Yet, though high heaven be won, 

I am thy mother! Smile upon me, sweet. 
Here at thy feet! 



THREE CROSSES 

There were three crosses on the hill, 
Three shadows downward thrown ; 

O Mary Mother, heard you not 
The other mothers' moan? 

Your Son — he was the Holy One 

Whom angels comforted ; 
They touched his lips with heavenly wine 

In those dark hours of dread! 

For him all nature mourned ; the sun 

Veiled its resplendent face ; 
Darkness and tumult for his sake 

Filled all the awful space. 
34 



THREE CROSSES 35 

And you — the sword that pierced your heart 

Grave prophets had foretold ; 
You saw the crown above the cross, 

Clear shining as of old! 

O Mary Mother, sitting now 

Enthroned beside your Son, 
You knew even then the glorious end 

For which the deed was done! 

You saw the ages bending low 

In homage at his feet ; 
You heard the songs of triumph, 

And the music piercing sweet. 

Three crosses on dark Calvary's hill, 

Three awful shadows thrown ; 
Three mothers, faint with anguish sore. 

Making to God their moan. 

But they, those other mothers, who 

Bent down to comfort them? 
They cowered afar ; they had not dared 

To touch your garment's hem. 



36 THREE CROSSES 

Even if in mockery, your Son 

Was crowned and hailed as king ; 

While theirs— disgraced, dishonored they, 
Past all imagining! 

They loved like you ; their sons had lain 

Like yours in sinless rest, 
Cradled to slumber, soft and deep, 

On each fond, faithful breast. 

Yet now the terror and the shame, 

The agony untold, 
The deathless mother-love, unquenched 

By horrors manifold! 

Three crosses on the dreadful hill, 
Three shadows downward thrown ; 

Mother of Sorrows, thou hast borne 
Not one sharp pang alone! 



ON THE HEIGHT 

Like some great Merlin of an elder day, 
In robes of glistening samite clasped with pearl, 
White-haired, white-bearded, self-contained, and lone, 
Thy radiant forehead lifted to the skies, 
Majestic in pure splendor, thou dost sit, 
Monarch of mountains, while the lesser kings, — 
Only less kingly than thyself, — as if 
In some high presence-chamber, proudly wait, 
On either hand, the setting of the sun. 
Far in the kindling west the globe of fire 
Sinks slowly out of sight. The rich clouds fade ; 
^The glory dies ; earth shivers and is still. 
Behold! thou too art growing gray with eld 
When the swift afterglow, like living flame. 
Crowns thee with rubies, wraps thee in soft robes 
Pink-white and tender as blush roses are, 
And thou art beautiful as love's young dream! 
37 



38 ON THE HEIGHT 

What though the fair dream vanish as it came? 
Lo! as I gaze with half-suspended breath, 
The heavens open, and above thy brow 
Jupiter blazes in the darkening skies. 
Brightest of all thy diadem of stars. 

Winter and silence and fast-gathering night! 
Dost thou remember — thou who now no more 
Answerest by word or token to my cry — 
Dost thou remember one fair summer eve, 
Long, long ago, ere winter nights came down, 
When thou and I scaled yon far mountain height, 
And climbed its highest peak, and stood alone. 
Hand clasped in hand, heart beating close to heart, 
Poised between earth and sky? Beneath us rolled. 
Like ocean waves when all the winds are still. 
Billows of verdure to the horizon's verge ; 
Green, dimpled valleys, interlaced with streams ; 
Fair silver lakes, all tremulous with stars ; 
And multitudinous mountains, far and near, 
Encompassing the whole. All this we saw, 
Then turned and saw each other — which was more! 



WHEN SPENSER DIED 

Thus spake my Lord of Essex on the day 
When, after woful stress, rare Spenser died : 
" Now give ye heed, my lieges! Ye shall lay 
My Spenser forth in splendor and in pride, 
With rich array of banners floating wide. 
And pomp of sable plumes, and scutcheons fair. 
Let kind Death yield him what stern Life denied! 
Then bear him to the abbey's holy air, 
That he the sepulchre of buried kings may share ! " 

They laid him forth. Then up the mighty nave, 
Hung with rich tapestries that to and fro 
Waved softly in the scented air, all brave 
With dim, historic splendors, to the flow 
39 



40 WHEN SPENSER DIED 

Of rolling music, tremulous and slow, 
With solemn liturgies and chantings clear, 
Through the vast arches echoing soft and low, 
They bore him onward to the silence drear, 
While kings and priests of song walked by his stately 
bier. 

With tender hands the velvet pall they bore. 
Wrought with rich arabesques of silver sheen. 
Its silver fringes sweeping the dark floor 
Of the gray, pillared aisles they moved between ; 
Nor paused until, with proud yet reverent mien, 
Where Chaucer slept they lowered him to his rest ; 
Then gently dropped into the void unseen 
Odes, for spring flowers, to die upon his breast 
In fragrant, voiceless speech, that still their love 
confessed. 

And, ere they left him to his long repose, 

Into the brooding dark each poet cast 

The pen his verse was writ with. Ah! who knows? 

The years are silent, and the hoary past ; 



WHEN SPENSER DIED 41 

And Fame's far trump hath no resounding blast 
Heralding name or state. Yet make ye room, 
O mighty shades, for one, the first and last 
And mightiest of ye all! In Spenser's tomb 
Mayhap our Shakespeare's pen yet lights the murky 
gloom ! 



LOOKING TOWARD SPAIN 

I STAND on a rocky headland 
Far out in the deep blue main, 

And only its tremulous splendor 
Lies between me and Spain. 

Behind me the pine-tree forest, 

Singing the old refrain ; 
Before, the exulting billows 

And the far dreamland of Spain, 

On the red rocks dash the breakers ; 

Their spray is a blinding rain ; 
My hair is wet with the sea-foam, 

But the wind blows straight from Spain. 

43 



LOOKING TOWARD SPAIN 43 

Hark to the roar and the tumult 
And the cries Hke a soul in pain! 

But beyond is the calm and the silence, 
And the beautiful land of Spain. 

Afar, on the dim horizon, 

I watch with a yearning vain 
Yon fair ship gallantly sailing 

Straight on to the ports of Spain. 

And it's oh, for the splendid castles. 
And the light on tower and fane, 

And the mystical, magical glory 
Of the marvellous realm of Spain ! 

Night falls on the rocky headland 
As day and its splendors wane, 

While o'er the dark waters the moonlight 
Is building a bridge to Spain, 

But I think with an infinite longing 
Of the hopes that no longer reign, 

Of the dreams that are past fulfilment, 
Unless on thy shores, O Spain! 



INSTALLATION HYMN 

SiNQ aloud, O happy voices! 

Fill the air with joyful praise, 
While each grateful heart rejoices 

In the gift that crowns our days. 

Sing for joy, but let your singing 
To the heights of prayer upreach ; 

To thy throne, O God, are winging 
Thoughts too vast for human speech. 

Yet for him whom thou hast sent us 
Now with yearning hearts we pray ; 

Keep thou him whom thou hast lent us, 
Father, near to thee alway. 
44 



INSTALLATION HYMN 45 

When his heart grows faint and weary, 
Strengthen him with heavenly wine ; 

If his path grows dark or dreary, 
Lighten it with Hght divine. 

When the spirit, Lord, is wiUing, 
Though the shrinking heart is weak. 

Let thy voice, all tempests stilling, 
Blessed words of comfort speak. 

When he kneels beside our dying, 

When he lays our dead away. 
In our anguish and our crying, 

Teach thou him what words to say. 

When before thy holy altar 
He shall poiu" the sacred wine, 

Let his strong hand never falter, 
Holding fast to hand of thine. 

Now on pastor and on people. 
Lord, thy fullest blessing pour. 

While the bell from out the steeple 
Rings in peace forevermore. 



THE SACRAMENTAL HYMN 

"And when they had sung a hymn, they went out unto the 
Mount of Olives." 

Oh, to have heard that hymn 
Float through the chamber dim, 
Float through that " upper room," 
Hushed in the twilight gloom! 
Up the dark, starry skies 
Rolled the deep harmonies ; — 
Angels who heard the strain. 
How ran the high refrain? 

How rose the holy song? 
Triumphant, clear, and strong, 
As a glad bird uplift 
Over the wild sea-drift? 
46 



THE SACRAMENTAL HYMN 47 

Or was its liquid flow 
Tremulous, sad, and slow — 
Presage and prophecy 
Of lone Gethsemane? 

Was it a lofty psalm. 
Foretelling crown and palm? 
Soared it to heights of prayer 
On the still, vibrant air? 
When the last feast was spread, 
And the last words were said. 
Sang the Lord Christ the hymn 
In the old chamber dim? 



LESSONS TWAIN 

Just two things you knew, 
Little one who flew 
Like a dove to heaven 
One fair summer even : 
Love and pain. These two 
Held Life's lore for you! 

Child, do we know more? 
Earth for you is o'er ; 
All that it hath brought you, 
All that it hath taught you ; 
Lessons twain for thee — 
How much more know we? 



48 



OUTLIVED 

Not alone the trembling stars 
Glimmering through their cloudy bars ; 
Not alone yon mountain height 
Firm in adamantine might ; 
Not alone the rolling seas 
Dread with awful mysteries ; 
Nor the green earth, lying fair 
Under smiling depths of air ; 
Nor the lofty towers that man, 
Strong to do and wise to plan. 
Hath reared proudly, stone by stone. 
To the heavens — not these alone 
Have outlived thee, thou whose dust 
Earth hath held in sacred trust, 
While a century hath shed 
Countless blooms above thy head. 
49 



so OUTLIVED 

Thou art dust, but toys remain 
Fragile as a daisy-chain ; 
Trifles light as thistle-down 
Or the dandelion's crown! 
Here's the cup that held your wine, 
Frail and flower-like, thin and fine ; 
Here's the beaker whose slight rim 
Reddened when you kissed the brim ; 
Here's the glass that held your face 
Mirrored in its curving grace ; 
Linen wrought with dainty care ; 
Laces delicate as air ; 
Letters where your name is set, 
Holding subtle fragrance yet ; — 
Thou art dust, while toys remain 
Fragile as a daisy-chain! 



JACQUES AND SUZETTE 

There you sit in a niche together, 
Out of the reach of wind and weather, 
Looking down on a fierce bronze dragon, 
A cloisonne vase, and a gilded flagon, 
The opal gleam of a Venice glass, 
A chamois climbing an Alpine pass, 
An ivory boat from far Japan, 
An odorous flask from Ispahan, 

And a host of things- 
Trifles that last while Life takes wings! 

O chere Suzette, what years have flown 
Since you and Jacques were together thrown. 
And loved and quarrelled, and loved again— 
The old, old fate of dames and men ! 
51 



52 JACQUES AND SUZETTE 

But there you sit in your carven shrine, 
With never a thought of me or mine, 

Even though beset 
By your great-great-grandchildren, belle Suzette) 

Puffed and powdered your golden hair 
Gleaming under the rose you wear, 
One long, loose curl drooping low 
Over your bosom's tender snow ; 
Arching eyebrows, and smiling lips 
Red as the rose the wild bee sips — 

Thus, even yet, 
I see and I know you, chere Suzette! 

White puffed sleeves and a fall of lace, 

Lending your figure girlish grace ; 

Purple bodice that gems bedeck ; 

A string of amethysts round your neck ; 

Plenty of furbelows to show 

How you plumed your gay wings long ago. 

Lady Suzette, 
In the days when youth and pleasure met. 



JACQUES AND SUZETTE 53 

But, Grand-pere Jacques, with your curled brown 

wig, 
And your broad white kerchief, trim and trig, 
Out of which rises your shaven chin, 
With your dehcate hps and your nostrils thin, 
And a certain self-confident, high-bred air, 
Smihng and gallant and debonair — 

I wonder yet 
If she made your heart ache, this Suzette? 

Or perhaps, monsieur, 'twas the other way ; 
For she was jealous and you were gay, 
And under that frill of falling snow 
A passionate heart beat warm, I know. 
Dear Grand-pere Jacques, I doubt if you 
Were undeniably good and true ; 

Did you make her fret. 
Though you called her gently, " Ma chere 
Suzette"? 

Ye do not answer, O smiling lips! 
From the silent past no answer slips. 



54 JACQUES AND SUZETTE 

Quaint letters more than a century old 
Hint at romances that might be told ; 
But dust and ashes are all who knew 
How life fared on between you two, 

Jacques and Suzette, 
Or how its warp and its woof were set. 

Nay, nay, dear hearts, I will vex you not ; 
Be your loves, or glad or sad, forgot! 
Keep ye your secrets an you will, 
Sitting up yonder calm and still. 
Side by side in a niche together, 
Out of the reach of stormy weather, 

And whispering yet, 
" Mon ami Jacques! " " Ma chere Suzette! " 



AT BAR HARBOR 

"Peace be within thy walls!" the prophet cried 
In far Jerusalem when time was young ; 

O steadfast tower the changeful sea beside, 
What sweeter words were ever said or sung! 

Peace to thy walls! I cry with him of old; 

Peace that no storm disturbs, no tempest mars ; 
May each glad morning bring to thee its gold, 

Each tranquil night its benison of stars! 

And peace to her, of this fair realm the queen, 
Who bade thee rise where rolls the blue salt sea 

Give her thy strength, ye spires of living green. 
Thy deathless joy, O Ocean, wild and free! 



55 



HUBERT DE BURGH 

" Make ready my war-ships," cried Blanche of Castile ; 
" Make them stanch and well ordered from topmast 

to keel ; 
Then over the Channel in haste bid them dance, 
Bearing aid to my Louis, fair Louis of France!" 

There were eighty good ships, but with forty or less 
Brave Hubert de Burgh dared the storm and the 

stress ; 
At the mouth of the Thames he encountered them all, 
Overcame the proud Frenchmen and held them in 

thrall. 

He sent Louis home with his lilies all torn, 
His banners all drooping, his glory all shorn ; 
And the bold EngHsh barons made haste to declare 
That Hubert de Burgh royal honors should share. 
56 



HUBERT DE BURGH 57 

But alack and alas! for one dark day there rose 
A clashing, a clamor, a tumult of foes. 
Crying, " Death to Earl Hubert! With magical art 
And unholy spells he hath won the king's heart! " 

Straightway to the altar then fled he, and laid 
His hand on the cross, as of old on his blade ; 
But fast his foes followed, like wolves on the track. 
When the aisles of the forest with shadows are black! 

They stayed not for candle, for book, nor for bell, 
For the holy rood's chrism, the crosier's high spell ; 
From the chancel they dragged him forth into the 

night. 
While the stars veiled their faces and fled from the sight. 

With clashing of broadswords above his bare head, 
They haled and they harried him, sorely bestead. 
Till they reached a brown smithy afar on the green. 
Two pendulous, wide-spreading lindens between. 

Then they cried to the blacksmith, with jeer and with 

shout : 
" Ho, varlet ! from this your grim fortress come out, 



58 HUBERT DE BURGH 

And forge us some fetters both heavy and strong, — 
Chain-armor for one who shall wear it full long! " 

Forth came the swart yeoman, and bent a low knee, 
But not to that wild crew obeisance made he! 
He knelt to Earl Hubert and kissed his cold hand, 
Then rose and confronted the murderous band. 

" If I forge ye one bolt for Earl Hubert, who drave 
The French from our land and their ships from the 

wave, 
May my strong arm be palsied, my hand lose its skill. 
I have but one life ; take it now an ye will! " 

They thundered and cursed, but unflinching he stood. 
As with courage undaunted he faced the mad brood ; 
And to every fierce menace one answer he gave : 
" I forge ye no fetters for Hubert the brave! " 

No chains for brave Hubert! The night wore away. 
Birds twittered, mists lifted, the morning grew gray, 
Ere, sullenly leaving the smithy's low door. 
To the Tower, but unfettered. Earl Hubert they bore. 



CHRISTIANA 

She is wayworn, she is weary ; 

She hath journeyed long and far, 
In the dawning, and at noonday, 

And beneath the evening star. 

She hath carried heavy burdens ; 

She hath borne another's load ; 
She hath shared her herbs and lentils 

With those fainting on the road. 

Take her scrip and loose her sandals ; 

Bring cool water for her feet ; 
Lave her tired limbs, and fold them 

In fair linen, fresh and sweet. 
59 



6o CHRISTIANA 

Part the soft hair on her forehead ; 

Lightly touch the drifted snow, 
That was hke the golden sunshine 

In rare summers long ago. 

Whisper softly, for she sleepeth! 

Lay her pale hands on her breast. 
Do not wake her! Lift her gently, 

Lest you break this perfect rest. 

Bear her to the upper chamber ; 

Let the sound of weeping cease ; 
For it looketh toward the sunrise, 

And the chamber's name is —Peace. 



THE CHAMBER 

Room where I so oft have slept, 
Room where I so oft have wept, 
Room wherein my dead have lain, 
Wrapped away from care and pain, 
When my earthly day is done, 
Burdens dropped and rest begun, 
Life and thought and being fled — 
Who will love thee in my stead? 

Who will make thee fair and sweet. 
Bid the sun thy casements greet. 
Open all thy windows fair 
To the incense-laden air? 
From the garden bring the rose, 
And at daylight's dreamy close 
6i 



62 THE CHAMBER 

See the moon's pale splendor fall 
On the chamber's inmost wall? 

I would charm thee, if I could, 
Unto all that's bright and good. 
For her sake who after me 
Sometime shall find rest in thee. 
I would weave a spell so rare — 
Half a rhyme and half a prayer — 
That nor grief nor pain nor sin 
Through thy doors should enter in ! 

If she dreameth maiden dreams, 
Be they calm as sunlit streams ; 
If in some far, golden year 
A young mother shall lie here 
With a fair child on her breast, 
Cradled into softest rest, 
Lo! I charge thee, for my sake, 
Holy care of her to take! 

If some woman, half dismayed. 
Here shall see her beauty fade. 



THE CHAMBER 63 

See a shadow slowly pass 
O'er her image in the glass, 
Comfort her, I pray thee! Spread 
Wings of peace above her head ; 
Bid thine angels guard to keep 
Over her, the while I sleep ! 



"IN MANUS TUAS, DOMINE!" 

The glow has faded from the west, 
The splendor from the mountain's crest ; 
Stern Day's relentless task is done, 
And Nature rests at set of sun. 
But ere she shuts her weary eyes, 
Soothed as by airs of Paradise, 
She softly prays on bended knee, 

" /// maniis tuas, Domine/ " 

O silent hours, how dear ye are! 
There is no light of moon or star ; 
The twihght shadows slowly creep 
From rock to rock, from steep to steep ; 
The trees stand breathless on the hill. 
The restless winds are hushed and still ; 
Only one prayer from land and sea : 

" In mamis tuas, Domine/ " 
64 



''IN MANUS TUAS, DOMINE!'' 

And, O my soul, be sure when night 
In God's good time puts out the h'ght. 
And draws the curtains soft and dim 
Round weary head and heart and Hmb, 
You will be glad! But ere you go 
To sleep that no rude dreams shall know, 
Be this prayer said for you and me : 

"In manus tiias, Domi?ie/^^ 



THE CITY CALLED CHU 

There's a brave little captain goes sailing 

Day by day o'er an ocean blue. 
" Whither bound? " I demand, and he answers 

" I sail for the city called Chu! " 

'Tis a wonderful ship that he sails in, 
And 'tis manned by a wonderful crew, 

But all tides that flow bear it onward 
To the ports of the city called Chu. 

It hath masts mortal hand never fashioned ; 

It hath sails earthly winds never blew ; 
And its keel and its rudder know only 

The way to the city called Chu. 
66 



THE CITY CALLED CHU 67 

Oh, tell me, my brave little captain, 

So ready to dare and to do, 
What you find when you reach the fair city — 

The marvellous city called Chu? 

Hath it temples and turrets and towers 
That soar to its skies of pure blue? 

Hath it far-leaping splendor of fountains — 
This beautiful city called Chu? 

Hath it mystical, magical rivers? 

Hath it roses that bloom the year through? 
Hath it glamour of moonlight and starlight, 

The love-haunted city called Chu? 

Are its clear, silver bells ever chiming? 

Hath it voices that call but to you? 
Is there magic of music and laughter 

In the halls of the city called Chu? 

Sail on, oh, sail on, little captain. 

So ready to dare and to do. 
What is there this side of high heaven 

So fair as your city called Chu? 



THE DEATH-SONG OF THE HEMLOCK 

Ye say I am old— I am old; and ye threaten to hew 

me down, 
Lest the roof of your puny dwelling should be crushed 

by my heavy crown ; 
Ye measure my spreading branches, ye mock me with 

idle fears ! — 
Ye pygmies that creep at my foot-stool, what know ye 

of age, or years? 

I reckon ye all as shadows! Ye are but as clouds 
that pass 

Over the face of the mountains and over the meadow- 
grass ; 

Your generations are phantoms ; like wraiths they come 
and go, 

Leaving no trace behind them in the paths they used 

to know! 

68 



THE DEATH-SONG OF THE HEMLOCK 69 

But I! — For six hundred rolling years I have stood 
like a watch-tower, I ! 

I have counted the slow procession of centuries cir- 
cling by! 

I have looked at the sun unblenching; I have num- 
bered the midnight stars ; 

Nor quailed when the fiery serpent leaped from its 
cloudy bars! 

Or ever ye were a nation, or your commonwealth was 

born, 
I stood on this breezy hilltop, fronting the hills of 

morn, 
In the strength of my prime uplifting my head above 

meaner things, 
Till only the strong winds reached it, or the wild birds' 

sweeping wings! 

It was mine to know when the white man ventured 

the unknown seas. 
And silence fled before him, and the forest mysteries ; 



70 THE DEATH-SONG OF THE HEMLOCK 

I saw his towers and steeples that pierced the un- 

fathomed sky, 
And his domes that darkened the heavens — but above 

them all soared I ! 

He builded his towns and cities, and his mansions fine 
and fair, , 

And slowly his fertile meadows grew wide in the tran- 
quil air ; 

He stretched his iron pathways from the mountains to 
the sea — 

But little cared I for his handiwork! 'Twas the one 
great God made me! 

The Earth and the Sun and the mighty Winds, and the 

great God over all. 
These bade me stand like a sentinel on the hilltop 

grand and tall. 
Know ye that a hundred years ago men called me old 

and worn? 
Yet here I tower above their graves, and laugh them 

all to scorn! 



THE DEATH-SONG OF THE HEMLOCK 71 

For what are threescore years and ten, ye creatures of 

a day? 
Ye are to me Hke the flying motes that in the sunshine 

play! 
Shall I tremble because ye threaten and whisper that 

I am old? 
I will die of my own free, lordly will, ere the year has 

shed its gold! 

But till then, as I stood or ever the land of your love 

was born, 
I will stand erect on my hilltop, fronting the hills of 

morn, 
In the pride of mine age uplifting my head above 

meaner things, 
Till only the strong winds reach it, or the wild birds' 

sweeping wings! 



FOR A CHRISTENING 

Blow softly, winds of the South! 

Skies of the South, bend low! 
Sparkle, ye radiant waters, 

In the sunset's tender glow! 

Keep watch and ward, O palm-trees! 

Oaks, spread your branches wide! 
O sentinel pine-trees, let your strength 

Like the strength of the hills abide! 

Disks of the Cherokee roses, 
Gleam from your emerald bars! 

O jasmines, swing your censers 
In the light of your golden stars! 

72 



FOR A CHRISTENING 73 

Fill the air, ye joyous wild birds, 

With a glad, sweet roundelay, 
For a little child is given 

To the Lord Christ to-day! 



Ah, what shall I bring to thee. 
Child, who shall bear my name 

When I shall he unheeding 
Or love or praise or blame ; 

Who shall speak when I am silent ; 

Who, when I He deaf, shall hear 
This dear earth's song of triumph, 

And its hymns of lofty cheer ; 

Who shall see my roses bloom. 
And my snow-white lilies gleam, 

In the sunlight and the starlight, 
When I sleep without a dream? 

Nay, litde child, forgive me, 
Nor think the strain too sad ; 



74 FOR A CHRISTENING 

One life must follow another, 
But earth shall still be glad! 

Evening must follow morning ; 

But the morn shall still be gay 
With splendor of rose and purple, 

And the pomp of glorious day! 

And had I the mystic token, 
I would weave a spell so rare, 

It should be like a holy talisman, 
Strong with the strength of prayer. 

To charm thee from every sorrow, 
To keep thee from every ill, 

And with costliest wine of blessing 
Thy waiting cup to fill! 



THE DREAM-BEARER 

(Suggested by Ross Turner's water-color, " The Golden 
Galleon.") 

From what far wonderland of dreams, 

What island of remotest seas, 
O Golden Galleon, sailest thou 

With white wings on the breeze? 

Thou stately splendor, pressing on 
From mystic East to radiant West, 

On what proud errand art thou bent— 
What high, mysterious quest? 

The great sea bears thee up ; the waves 
With slow upheaval lift thy bow ; 

With long and steady sweep they glide 
Under thy gleaming prow. 

75 



76 THE DREAM-BEARER 

Thy slender masts, like spires of jet, 
Are black against the reddening sky ; 

Thy sails are full — yet idly droops 
Yon pennant hfted high. 

All silently thou speedest on ; 

No sailor climbs thy shining spars ; 
Thy carven saints alone keep ward 

Beneath or sun or stars! 

O Golden Galleon, well we know 

Thou hast no freight of earthly mould ; 

No Orient treasures dost thou bear, 
No red gold lights thy hold! 

Thou art but freighted with our dreams! 

Sail on, O blessed ship, sail on. 
To some far land where dreams come true, 

And all that's lost is won! 



THE SECRET CHAMBER 

Into the secret chamber of my heart, 

Wherein no mortal enters, Lord, come thou 
And make thy dwelUng-place ere day depart ! 

Even now the clouds are golden in the west ; 

The long, slant shadows creep across the way ; 
The glory fades on yonder mountain-crest. 

It will be nightfall soon, for faint and far 

The pallid moon, a silver crescent, hangs 
Above the low reach of the horizon bar. 

And night is lonely and beset with fears! 

Come thou, O Lord, come in and dwell with me 
Through the long darkness till the dawn appears! 

77 



l^ofC. 



78 THE SECRET CHAMBER 

O thou who didst create the human heart, 

Didst thou not make one sure place for thyself ? 
It is high sanctuary where thou art! 

Thou knowest, ah! thou knowest! Words are weak. 

When the tongue falters and the lips are dumb, 
Thou knowest all the yearning heart would speak! 

The unuttered prayer thou hearest. Lo ! the shrine 

Waits for thy presence! Ere the day be done 
Take thou possession, O thou Guest Divine! 



"OUT OF THE SILENCE, SPEAK!" 

Out of the silence, speak! 

Could you come through the waiting door, 
With your eyes aglow and your heart on fire. 

As in days that are no more ; 
Could you enter the wide old hall. 

And the chambers fresh and fair, 
And wander from room to room 

In the sweet, flower-scented air ; 
Could you tread the garden paths 

Where your own white lilies grow, 
And the rose you planted blooms 

As in Junes of long ago — 
Would you be glad to come 

Back to the world of men, 
Back to your wonted place 

In its busy ranks again? 
79 



8o " OUT OF THE SILENCE, SPEAK!'' 

Out of the shadows, speak! 

O tender heart and true, 
Could you return, return. 

All would be changed for you ! 
For others sit at your board. 

And others warm at your fire. 
And over your walls strange shadows flit 

As the flames leap high and higher. 
The boys that you knew are bearded men. 

And the bearded men are gray. 
And the weight of years has touched them all- 

You would know them not to-day! 
There are children born of your line 

To whom you are but a name — 
A name, a dream, and a shadow, 

A phantom they scarce can claim. 



Out of the glory, speak! 

From your bright heaven afar, 
Where you need no light of sun. 

Nor ray of moon or star, 



"OUT OF THE SILENCE, SPEAK T' 8i 

Would you come to earth if you could 

To face the changes here, 
The sense of a strange new world 

With its alien atmosphere? 
For lo! as the Century dies 

It spreadeth its mighty hands, 
And a change comes over the deep. 

And over the waiting lands, 
As the youngest born of the nations 

Lifts Destiny's proud gauge, 
Accepting, for weal or woe, 

Life's lofty heritage! 

Out of the glory, speak! 

As your changeless years roll on, 
Would ye return if ye could, 

O ye who have lost and %t<on? 



AFTER MANY DAYS 

I SIT beside my flying loom, 

I toss the shuttle to and fro ; 
The sunlight floods the quiet room, 

Making the pattern gleam and glow. 
Without, autumnal glories shine ; 

Through warp and woof rich shadows play. 
Would God it were more fair and fine, 

This web that groweth day by day! 

I weave and weave till day is done ; 

But who will bleach the linen white. 
By alchemy of rain and sun, 

Hot summer noons, and dewy night? 
And who its shining length will wear? 

Under its folds what heart will hide 
Its stress of passion or of prayer, 

Of Vv^ordless bliss or love denied? 
82 



AFTER MANY DA YS 

I plant a tree beside my gate ; 

Slowly it rises, fair and tall ; 
With prophecy of royal state 

It towers above the old gray wall! 
But who will see it in its prime? 

What lovers seek its leafy ways? 
What bard unborn, with song and rhyme, 

Wed its green boughs to deathless lays? 

I build a mansion wide and fair ; 

I rear its towers of fretted stone ; 
But who shall breathe its happy air? 

Who call its sheltering roof his own ? 
What guests shall throng its chambers fine? 

What feet youth's joyous measures tread, 
When I have drained life's last red wine, 

And grass grows green above my head? 

On the soft air I loose a song ; 

From pole to pole it drifteth far ; 
It floateth fast, it floateth long. 

Inconsequent as breezes are! 



84 AFTER MANY DAYS 

But who will hear it as it flies 

Through shadowy spaces, vast and dim, 
And lure it from the lonely skies, 

When I have done with song and hymn? 



